Square One
by hazelle
Summary: Chlark one-shot. Another late night rush for the deadline has an unexpected but welcome ending for Chloe when Clark stops by to help her out.


**Hey! This is a short little Chlark fic that happens to be my favourite story that I've written to date. So please read and review!**

**Square One**

Clark Kent was a mystery wrapped in a mystery. A walking paradox that Chloe Sullivan had been trying to figure out for a good fraction of her short life.

At first she'd passed him off as your typical brawn-no-brains farm boy, and at first glance anyone still longing for and dazzled by the charm of the city lights would have thought so too.

That was until he'd greeted her with a dazzling charm of his own, and her heart had melted into a puddle at his feet along with logic and reason.

And she'd kissed him.

And he'd kissed her back.

And for a while everything had been just dandy; the sun was shining, birds were singing and Chloe Sullivan was up on Cloud Nine with Clark Kent along for the ride. It was a shame that 'while' only lasted about ten seconds.

So Chloe, now blinded by a dazzling charm of a different sort, had set out on her quest to find the real Clark Kent. She took over the Torch, persuaded him to join, enlisted in wacky adventures that always ended up with him saving her, and grew just that little bit closer to him every day.

It had been a long haul, but after all those years, she thought she'd finally had him cracked… when he went and did something so completely _unlike_ him that she felt like she was back to square one.

Back to trying to figure out why on earth he did the things he did.

Over time, once she'd realised her feelings differed from Clark's, she'd learned to like the study sessions, the late night rush for the deadline, the sunny picnics, because if that was all she could get she'd take hold and never let go.

And as much as she hated to admit it, she liked being cast into the stereotypical name of Chloe Sullivan: Investigative Reporter and Sidekick.

It meant she saw a lot of Clark, true not as much as he saw of Lana, but she figured she'd have to make the best of the situation. That was what Sullivans did. Persevere. Keep unravelling the mystery that was Clark Kent in the hope that one day the trail would lead to his heart.

Clark kept her on her toes, and there was no other place she'd rather be.

Apart from in his arms, of course.

But since that possibility was ruled out every time Lana walked into the room, she'd slipped into the role she still played so well to this day. She was there when he needed her and vice versa, she supplied information, he supplied the daring rescues. She watched him from afar whilst he watched Lana from afar. A perfect little love triangle.

Chloe didn't know what he'd found out about Miss. Lang from watching her from afar, but she knew _her_ experience had been enlightening. Like the saying went, sometimes you had to step back and take a look around to really see what was there.

Clark just hadn't stepped back far enough to see her yet.

She bit her lip and dug a fountain pen out from the inky depths of her bag, no pun intended, then straightened the already impeccably neat paper sitting on her desk waiting for her to make a start.

The front page of the Torch needed this article by the end of the day, which technically had already ended exactly thirty minutes ago as the clock chimed half past midnight in synchronisation with Chloe's defeated groan.

Inspired by the ticking of the clock and determined to get something done, her pen flashed across the top left of the page then drew away again to reveal a smudged date. Chloe hated ink pens with a passion and glared over at her broken computer as if willing it to work.

Whilst researching her latest story on the internet, the accursed machine that was supposed to act as a computer had caught a virus, and it was now lying dejectedly in the cardboard box it came in, 'acting as a good door stop' as Clark had swung by to comment earlier.

Even little things like his incredibly wrong sense of humour were endearing to Chloe, if nobody else.

It wasn't the amazing things he did, it wasn't the unknowing display of powers he occasionally showed, it wasn't the x-ray vision or strength or speed or heat vision or God knows what else, it was the ordinary things.

It was the normal things he did that made him abnormal, however odd that sounded.

Hence, the mystery wrapped in a mystery that had Chloe musing well into the early hours of the morning.

She let out the hundredth sigh of the hour, (she'd been counting), and once more put pen to paper to write the Pulitzer winning article of the century that would land her an interview at the Daily Planet.

It didn't work.

Her pen hovered over the waiting paper, anticipating words of wisdom that were not forthcoming.

With a frustrated groan she threw said pen across the room, where it splattered ink dangerously close to the Wall of Weird before sliding down pathetically to lie defeated in the bin.

That didn't work either.

She leaned her head forward on the desk, banging it repeatedly. All that resulted in was a headache.

It was no use. She needed help if she planned on writing so much as a single vowel that night. That help came in the form of a million watt smile that by rights should have been on a Colgate advert, and a brown paper bag carrying precious-

"Caffeine!"

Chloe practically bounced from her seat and tumbled into Clark's arms, knocking him back a few steps.

He held the bag safely out of harm's way above her head, his other arm hanging in the air awkwardly. A frustrated Chloe he could deal with. A cranky Chloe he could deal with. But a frustrated, cranky _and_ decaffeinated Chloe he was having a little trouble handling.

Smiling warily down at her as if expecting her to explode at any given time, as she beamed back up at him, he hesitantly brought his arms down around her small waist, his friendly grin fading to something more intimate. A faint blush rose in her cheeks despite herself.

"Hi." He said softly, and his greeting brought the world sharply back into focus for Chloe. In Clark's world, the name Chloe Sullivan meant best friend and investigating buddy, nothing more. In Chloe's world the name Clark Kent meant much, much more, but that was not for him to know.

Pulling back the best friend persona and the bag from his hands, she pranced back to her desk, to hastily tear the bag apart. It was safer to play the quirky, snarky reporter than taking the risk. She'd learned that by trial and error, a process she didn't want to undergo again anytime soon.

"Whatcha got me?" She chirped, simultaneously diving in and removing a Mocha Latte, rendering her question moot. Clark followed her into the room at a slower pace, coming to stand behind her as she tore off the lid and stuck the straw in so quickly he began to doubt whether she'd been fed during the last month or not.

He gestured to the blank sheet of paper, the ink pooling on her desk and the lack of a pen. A mischievous glint glowed in his eyes and he asked, "How's it going?"

Grinning, Clark backed off a few paces as she turned to him with murder in her eyes. He quickly put his hands up in the air, tripping backwards over a desk drawer in his haste to put some distance between them.

"Ok ok, I'll rephrase that: What can I do to help?" He speedily put in before she could strangle him, which seemed to be a likely possibility with the way she was glaring at him.

"You can buy me a new pen for starters." Chloe said, as if it was his fault that it was lying broken in the bin, leaking out its contents onto previous attempts at homework and articles. She noisily slurped the dregs of her Latte up the straw, and her attention momentarily on the drink, she tried to look down at her straw and went cross-eyed. Clark laughed and she glared again.

He cleared his throat and quickly went across to the bin, fishing the pen out and surveying it with a critical eye. "I reckon it can be salvaged."

Chloe put down her drink and turned to him in disgust. "Eww Clark! There's a load of mouldy old food in there!"

Clark quickly got rid of the pen and stepped away from the bin, leaning over to peer in instead from a safe distance. "Yuck, there is as well, why on earth is there a dead fish in there?" He exclaimed, moving away from the bin with his nose wrinkled as the foul smell wafted up to him.

"Dissection, Biology, 2nd period, about a fortnight ago." Chloe rattled off as if that was explanation enough. In all honesty she didn't quite know when she'd last emptied the contents of that bin. Clark wisely decided to leave that matter well alone and wandered over to her computer, ducking as she tossed the empty paper bag to land beside the pen.

"Good arm." He commented, studying the computer so intensely anyone would have thought he was trying to see through it. Chloe of course knew better. '_Trying_' didn't come into the equation. "So they still haven't fixed it?"

"Nope. As signified by my attempt to become acquainted with this antique instrument known as a pen." Chloe quipped, now digging a biro from the mess that was her desk drawer.

Clark glanced over at the ink patches decorating her paper, and raised a sarcastic eyebrow. "I can see you're doing a fine job."

"Sure am." She chose to ignore his attempt at sarcasm and instead set to work, scribbling furiously over the page, her tongue poking out the corner of her mouth like it always did when she was concentrating or had received sudden inspiration from her invisible muse.

After a minute, Clark came to hover over her shoulder, intending to read what should be the beginnings of the greatest piece of journalism ever recorded from the way she was working.

Instead he found himself reeling off her shopping list.

"'Cabbage' is double 'b'." He told her, and received another glare for his effort.

"Clark, if I wanted my own personal spell checker I'd buy a dictionary." She glanced back at the word. "Besides, it does have double 'b', that one's just covered by an ink splat."

"Of course it is, Chloe." Clark said, smiling at her.

"Don't try to get into the patronising game, Kent. You'll lose every time." She warned, and even though there was no trace of it in her voice, Clark knew her well enough to know she was teasing.

He kept his silence and moved away to the Wall of Weird, scanning for any new additions. There was a new picture of a small child hugging his Mum's leg protectively, scared eyes peering up at the camera. Chloe stopped writing and watched him as his shoulders slumped and his back heaved with a great sigh.

Despite all that he did for the world, or more accurately Smallville, he still couldn't get by without the occasional guilt-fest, as Chloe had dubbed it. One moment he'd be laughing at her joke, smile as bright as ever, the next he'd be moping over something that happened over a decade ago and he had no control over whatsoever. Just another piece to add to the growing puzzle of Clark's personality, Chloe thought wistfully. One day she hoped to be the final piece to add to that puzzle, and together they'd be complete, whole.

At that moment, Clark's gaze shifted to the dark haired little girl forever adorning the front cover of Time magazine, and he sighed.

It was moments like those that made Chloe wonder why she even bothered. It would take more than a spunky blonde reporter to get him to open his eyes to the fact that every bad thing that happened was not his fault- and Lana Lang was _not_ going to turn around and finally confess her passionate and undying love for him any time soon.

Still, if Clark could never see that then it would be alright for Chloe to lust after his heart for just a little longer, right?

"Right."

"Huh?" Chloe's elbow slipped sideways off her desk, scattering paper as she banged her chin on the wood. "Oww, jeez…" She muttered, trying to rub her throbbing chin and elbow at the same time.

Clark suppressed his grin just in time before she looked up. He cleared his throat and looked away. "I said I better get going. You'll be ok on your own, right?"

"Oh… sure… don't you have to help out Lana with the Talon early tomorrow or something?" Chloe replied, doing her best to sound indifferent, though she knew even without the aid of a mirror that her face had fallen through several hundred degrees of disappointed.

There always seemed to be something in the way of her and Clark, like some unseen force was acting to keep them apart. Except for that force 99.9 of the time turned out to be Lana, and Lana most definitely was not unseen. In fact, she had to be the most _seen_ girl in Smallville High, and she acted like she didn't even know half the guys were drooling after her.

Chloe pulled herself out of her inner monologue in time to see Clark shift his weight from foot to foot like he always did when he was uncomfortable. She didn't know why, as she was putting no pressure on him. She'd accepted the fact that Lana would always come first in Clark's book, though it had been a bitter pill to swallow.

"Yeah… but… I don't think she'd mind me being a few minutes late." He eventually answered, offering a smile, and Chloe nearly passed out from lack of oxygen to her brain.

Clark had just turned down a few precious minutes of Lana time in preference to helping her work.

She made no effort to stop her mouth from flopping open and Clark gentlemanly didn't comment on it, either that or he hadn't noticed. Then again, it was probably the latter.

Chloe watched as he walked over to her, and wondered what had made him change his mind. Was it guilt? Guilt for leaving her alone at night in the deserted Torch office? He'd never had any qualms about it before, though he'd always checked up on her regularly and made sure she didn't mind his leaving. That still didn't change the fact that he'd left, though.

"Now, how long does this article have to be exactly?" He pulled up a seat beside her, smiling invitingly.

"Three hundred words." Her mouth moved and the words came out automatically, but her thoughts were a million miles away, racing along like a high speed train. She watched as Clark snatched the pen from its precarious position near the edge of the desk, shuffling her shopping list to the back of the stack of paper, ready for a clean start. He paused, pen between his teeth as he thought of an opening line, and Chloe quickly snatched the pen from his mouth.

"Go get some food if you're hungry, just don't use my pen as a chew-toy." She told him, bringing the pen in her hand down on each syllable, like a teacher telling off a naughty kid.

"It's not my fault they're so tasty." Clark grinned and grabbed the pen back, that mischievous gleam back in his eyes. He smiled briefly at her before turning back to the task at hand and scribbling down the opening line in a hand legible only to him. Chloe watched in silence as the words spurted from the nib, Clark's body hunched over the paper and his face frowning intensely. He reminded her of a mad scientist, she thought absently, still up and working feverishly on his creation in the early hours of the morning. She suppressed the urge to laugh out loud and was satisfied with a secret smile. She'd seen a side of Clark Kent that probably no one else had. The mad scientist side. At that she did laugh, earning her an indecipherable look from Clark, who promptly went back to work as she just shook her head in explanation, grinning. She was content to sit and study him for the next few minutes.

"Hey Chlo'?" His voice came from nowhere and she jerked out of her trance and pretended she hadn't been staring at him as he looked up at her.

"Yeah?" She replied, expecting him to ask her how to spell a word or phrase a sentence. Or get off her butt and help him write the article she should have penned hours ago. Instead his request was a something a little more unexpected.

"Want to go to the dance on Friday?"

Chloe stared. And stared. And stared some more until Clark began to worry and second guess himself.

His eyes dropped to the floor and he fiddled with the pen in his hands nervously. "I'm sorry, it doesn't matter, I just thought-"

"Pick me up at 8." Chloe cut off his undignified stream of apologies, bringing a disbelieving but overjoyed smile to both their faces.

"Great." Clark confirmed, and didn't seem to know what to do then, so he turned back to the desk, bending over the paper again.

Chloe sighed fondly to herself, shaking her head at his sweet, shy, dorkiness, and all of a sudden, she was back to square one. Back to wondering what kind of planet Clark was from, because she hadn't expected him to pick her over the Pink Princess in a hundred years, even if it was only for some dumb school dance she hadn't wanted to go to in the first place.

Still, she couldn't help but let herself daydream up images of herself in a flowing dress to the floor, Clark twirling her in his arms and them laughing together as he stood on the hem. Sure, the dream was unconventional, but it was reality, and it was all Chloe had. Other girls may dream of kissing passionately in the spotlight to the soft music, glittering crowns upon their heads, but Chloe was no other girl. It seemed Clark was just beginning to take that step back to see that.

And it was then, as Chloe watched Clark work happily on her article for her, sacrificing his free time to help her when he could be doing anything else, anywhere else in the world, that she realised something.

There was no other place she'd rather be, than right where she was at that moment. At the start, at the first step of what promised to be a beautiful relationship.

On square one.

**Fin**

**I didn't know where I was going with this story from start to finish, perhaps that's why I like it most. Or perhaps it's because my computer crashed so many times when I was writing it and I hadn't saved... I really should have learnt my lesson the first time, shouldn't I? Lol guess I'm a glutton for punishment. Please review!**


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